


all made up

by electrictrashcan



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Bad Flirting, First Kiss, Flirting, M/M, boys wearing makeup, piss off they're gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-21 04:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19996081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electrictrashcan/pseuds/electrictrashcan
Summary: Brian reads too far into a tweet. Shenanigans ensue.Or: Patrick has never not once heard of a gender role.





	all made up

**Author's Note:**

> you know the drill if u or somebody u know is in this fic then kindly step away and maybe just leave this whole tag lmao  
> this is a fictionalization, and it is not meant to depict actual things that the author believes or that have actually occurred  
> okay enjoy mwah

Pat “Knife Museum” Gill

@pizza_suplex

The good thing about being a video professional with no makeup department is that my zits will live forever

5:20 PM · Jul 9, 2019 · Twitter for iPad

\-----

Brian rocked onto the balls of his feet, nibbling on a thumbnail as his brain spun faster than he could keep up with. It did this, sometimes, when Pat off-handedly complimented him at the office or posted some absurdist tweet that sent Brian’s mind whirling into a spiral of  _ what could that mean did it have any meaning at all could this be his way of showing affection or just friendship pull it together Gilbert of course it’s just a friendship he’s  _ straight _ get over yourself don’t let yourself fantasize about putting makeup on Patrick Gill don’t you  _ dare-

It always came back to that. Brian was still staring intently at the tweet, gripping the tattered case of his phone tightly and bracing his other hand against the side of the kitchen sink. He wrinkled his brow, shook his head, and tried to drop the thought.

It was stupid; Pat was making a joke. Of course he was! Brian popping into a Sephora to grab Pat’s shade of foundation was just a fun joke! A goof! A jape! He tried not to think too hard about how quickly he had been able to identify a shade close to Pat’s own skin color - they did work together, after all, and Brian had a good eye for color. He tried desperately not to think about how he had slid a bottle of mascara and a powdered blush across the counter to pay for them along with the primer, setting spray, and foundation the cashier had so sweetly mentioned didn’t match Brian’s skin color, and felt some guilty pride that his cheeks got only a little hot as he sheepishly whispered that it was for a friend.

Pat wasn’t at work on Wednesday - he was beginning to work from home more Wednesdays than not, but Brian still let out a sigh of disappointment every time Pat failed to show up. It wasn’t that he  _ needed _ to see Pat, it’s just that usually they got lunch together while Pat pitched ridiculous ideas for Unraveled and Brian tried not to blush at his big-mouthed smiles and narrow-eyed bursts of laughter. He was  _ fine, _ when Pat wasn’t at work, but seeing the persistent green dot by Pat’s name on his Slack browser was distracting, to say the least. They weren’t even filming anything tomorrow. Why would Pat possibly do anything besides squint strangely at Brian’s offering? That’s exactly what he would do.  _ Its stupid this is stupid why would he possibly accept your weird-ass offer he’s gonna think you’re weird and never going to talk to you again you can’t possibly do- _

“Brian?”

A hand on his shoulder and an amused voice shocked him out of his spiraling thoughts. Simone was staring at him with a quirked eyebrow and a small smile on her face. He felt his cheeks heat up as he took off his headphones to hum questioningly back at her.

“Pat just texted and said he needs to grab some more greenscreen clips for his video tomorrow, and he asked if you could be on camera for it.” It wasn’t a question, the way Simone posed it, but she paused as if giving Brian a choice.

“Uh- I, yeah, sure, I can do that.” Brian coughed a little, trying to hide his flustered response.

Simone only winked and turned on a heel to waltz back to her desk, leaving Brian reeling with new input to his (absurd and irrational) plan. God  _ damn _ it, Patrick. Why couldn’t he have asked Clayton?  _ Clayton  _ wouldn’t ask if he could paint Pat’s face.  _ Clayton _ wouldn’t stutter and muss up his hair and laugh too hard at Pat’s jokes. But Pat asked for Brian, not that that meant anything.

Of course, it didn’t mean anything. He and Pat just… worked well together, is all. As friends. Sure, Pat asked more and more to work with Brian as time went on, but that was just because they had a dynamic, and it worked – for them and the audience. Nothing more to it.

\-----

Brian was curled up on one corner of the couch, gnawing at a thumbnail and trying hard not to think about Thursday. It worked with mixed (no) success, as Pat’s little texts asking Brian how the workday went and congratulating him profusely on the success of the new Unraveled and thanking him for agreeing to film made the thought hard to put aside. Brian couldn’t kid himself – he was still thinking about it. Rashly, he considered that if he just asked Pat tonight if he was up for makeup, Brian wouldn’t have to sit through the mortification of getting laughed at in his place of work.

He pressed send.

_ hey weird question _

__

Fuck. He really needed to work on impulse control.

For once, the universe decided to cooperate with his anxious impatience, because Pat was already typing a response. Brian drummed his fingers on the armrest of the couch as he awaited Pat’s answer.

**_Yeah what’s up_ **

_ so uh _

_ i saw ur tweet the other day and if u want i can _

_ help u put on makeup _

_ just for filming y’know _

**_Yeah that sounds really nice actually!_ **

****

Well, that was not at all the answer Brian was expecting. He squeaked faintly at the response and tempered his energy long enough to reply with

_ cool! we can do it tomorrow! _

__

And Patrick, the absolute psychopath, responded with a thumbs-up emoji. What the fuck. Why was Brian attracted to being friends with this man.

Placing his phone down carefully on the arm of the couch, Brian rocketed out of his seat and jumped, throwing his limbs around in some mockery of a dance as the burning nervous energy seared its way through his head. He punctuated the wiggling with a dramatic collapse on the carpet, facing the ceiling with the heels of his palms pressing against his eyelids. He was royally and utterly fucked.

\-----

The first three hours of the workday lasted one thousand years, by Brian’s estimation. They’d snagged an hour to film at noon, so Pat had offered to grab lunch with Brian beforehand, since it was at such an inconvenient time. It was convenience, was all. To grab lunch together and block the shot, then go straight into filming. Perfectly normal for two coworkers and good friends to do something like that! Perfectly normal for Brian to slide into the booth next to Pat to see the script Pat was adding last-minute edits to. Perfectly normal for Pat, hunched over his laptop, to look up at Brian as the latter was peering over the script, and for Brian to lock eyes with that intense, affectionate gaze, and for both of them to look away because of course, nothing was happening.

The walk back to the office and subsequent elevator ride were composed mostly of silence, broken by Brian’s quiet humming (a nervous habit stemming from pre-show jitters). Once they reached Polygon’s floor, Pat made a beeline for the room they had claimed for filming, dropping his messenger bag into the seat of his chair without breaking stride. Brian forced himself to look away, more methodically putting his stuff back on his desk and grabbing the impromptu makeup kit he had constructed for Pat.

He moved towards the filming room and Pat looked up brightly from his phone as he saw Brian coming.

“Hey! We’re running early so Jenna’s still working on something in there, but she’ll be out by noon,” he said.

Brian nodded, then paused in thought.

In a quiet voice, he asked, “Do you wanna, uh, do you want me to do your makeup, since we have time?”

Brian felt his cheeks burn as he thrust the grocery bag of makeup in front of himself by way of explanation, waiting anxiously for a response.

Pat shrugged and nodded, giving Brian a small smile.

“The uh. The bathroom is gonna have the best lighting… if you’re cool with us… like.”

Pat’s smile broke into a grin and he nodded more sincerely as he replied, “Sure thing, dude.”

“You don’t have to like, be weird about it,” he continued as they walked towards the gender-neutral bathroom. Brian felt a hydraulic press settle against his ribcage.

“I’m not gonna be weird and masculine about wearing makeup, I promise. I know a lot of dudes get freaked out because they think having a skin routine will make them gay – not that there’s anything wrong with- with either of those things! – but I wore eyeliner in high school. I’ve walked the walk.” At this, Pat ruffled Brian’s hair affectionately.

For a brief second, Brian had felt the pressure lift from his heart, but the mental image his brain had contrived without his permission of Pat with his dark glower rimmed in eyeliner – proper, good eyeliner, not the shitty job he’d done in that one Gill and Gilbert – hit Brian in the chest (and absolutely nothing else!) before he could even take a breath of relief.

Brian got to the door first, nearly break-checking Pat as he tried to switch their positions so he could open the bathroom door. He bowed overdramatically, holding the door open for the other man before slipping in behind him. It was a single stall, well-lit and with a large mirror and a reputation for being the place in the office you went if you wanted to do a little workplace making out. He did the best he could to force  _ that _ particular thought out of his mind. Brian could feel Pat’s eyes on him as he gracelessly dumped the contents of the plastic bag on the counter and sorted them out by what he needed.

“Okay. So you’re gonna be here,” – Brian gripped Pat’s shoulders and maneuvered him so that he was facing the mirror – “and  _ I… _ ” – he squeezed into the space between the counter and Pat – “will be right here!” Pat was right up against him, the closeness making their height difference all the more drastic.

He pushed Pat’s shoulders backwards gently. “You don’t have to be right up against me, you great big oaf! I need room to do my  _ craft _ .”

Pat chuckled. “And whose fault would that be?” he rumbled.

Brian was  _ really _ glad Pat had been compliant in taking a step back. And also that he seemed to have affixed his eyes on Brian’s face, and nowhere lower. This was okay.

“Okay, so because we’re filming, I can’t use a powder base, so I just guessed your skin tone the best I could,” Brian said.

Talking Pat – and himself – through this was going to help.

He grabbed Pat’s arm and lay a streak of foundation on the inside of his wrist, squinting to see if the color would be a match. It was maybe a tint darker, nothing that would be noticeable. Releasing Pat’s wrist, he looked back up to see the other man staring intently back at him.

Brian felt his cheeks heat up from the proximity, and let out a nervous laugh.

“Gonna need a little more space if I’m gonna do your foundation, Patrick!”

At that, Pat leaned away again, shrugging apologetically but not offering an explanation for the uncomfortable tension now swirling around the bathroom.

Pat spoke after Brian had applied his primer and concealer, eyes closed and face mostly relaxed as Brian began to apply his foundation.

“So, do you wear makeup like this? For shoots?”

Brian nodded, before realizing that Pat absolutely could not see him. 

“Yeah. I wear makeup most days, just because I like the way it feels. Makes me feel more confident.”

Patrick chuckled, and Brian let out a cry of protest as he moved his face. He placed the tips of his fingers below Pat’s jaw, thumb holding his chin to keep him from moving anymore.

“Don’t  _ wiggle _ or I’m gonna accidentally shove this blending brush in your mouth,” he grumbled, fake-angry.

Pat cracked open an eye to give him an amused look, before closing it and speaking again.

“For what it’s worth, you don’t seem to have any shortage of confidence. Not that I’m saying you shouldn’t wear makeup or that it’s-“

“Mouth closed, please!”

Pat snapped his jaw shut as Brian finished applying foundation to his upper lip and the cleft of his chin. As soon as he let go of his face, Pat continued talking.

“I think it’s really cool that you wear makeup! And that it makes you feel more confident! I just think that you look beauti- you would look just as good, but just in- in a- in a different way than you do now!”

It was Brian’s turn to give a wry smile – one that he knew Pat could not see – and blush at Pat’s word-choice.

“Okay, I’m gonna use some setting spray to make sure that the heat of the lights doesn’t melt your face off,” Brian continued absentmindedly, shaking the bottle. “Close your mouth and eyes, please.”

Pat’s eyes were already closed, but he wrapped his lips around his teeth dramatically, sucking in a deep breath through his nose as though the spray would kill him.

Brian let out a giggle at the act, muttering “dumbass,” as he spritzed Pat’s face. Once he had capped the bottle, Pat opened his eyes into narrow slits, rearranging his face into a pout (illegal that he still looked cute with his face screwed up like that) and replied, reproachfully, “Me? A dumbass? How dare you, sir!”

Brian snorted. Pat gave him a crooked grin.

“Okay, don’t touch your face, let the setting spray do it’s thing, then you should be able to touch it without getting makeup on your hands.”

Pat didn’t respond, but Brian felt his quiet observation burning a hole through the point between his shoulder blades.

“Oh! Pat. I brought this clear lip gloss-“ as Brian turned back towards the other man, he found himself faced with what was becoming a distressingly common (and distracting) view: Pat, observing him with an open expression, his face only half a foot away from Brian’s, something of a smirk dancing at the corners of his mouth.

“Hey Bri, could I try something?”

Brian prepared to turn back around. “Yeah, sure.”

And suddenly Pat was crowding his space and pressing a whisper-light kiss against Brian’s mouth and ducking his head and clearing out of the bathroom, dark hair curtaining his expression.

Brian stared at the space Pat had just occupied, brain still a few steps behind. He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Well.

Pat Gill had just kissed him.

\-----

Brian was well and fully done for. If Pat was playing some sort of cruel trick – well, he couldn’t let himself spiral down  _ that _ particular train of thought. The other option, though, was infinitely scarier.

He took a deep breath and raked both hands through his hair, utterly overwhelmed. He stared at himself, carefully, in the mirror. The man who stared back at him was such a contrast to the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed twink that had bounced into the office ready to bring a  _ really excellent energy to the team _ . Now, he saw a man who was worn down from online scrutiny, who had deep bags carved out under his eyes from stress and overwork and insomnia, who was hopelessly in love with his coworker, six years his senior and devilishly handsome and probably straight.

Well, except for maybe that last thing.

Why Pat had done what he’d done – whatever his reasoning was – Brian didn’t know, but he steeled himself from the rejection that felt more and more inevitable with each passing moment. If he was already in this mess, he might as well go out with a bang.

\-----

When Brian stepped into the recording room, Pat was fiddling with a cable that surely was already untangled and in place. He closed the door behind him as silently as he could, resisting the urge to lick his lips.

_ It’s just theatre. Stage presence, Brian. _

He coughed to get Pat’s attention.

Pat’s head shot up at the noise, not in surprise, but with a clear air of apprehension around him. Brian mustered up as much smarm as he could and slunk up to Pat.

“Patrick. You left in such a hurry, but you never answered my question.”

Pat flushed visibly, hands flitting by his sides as though he wanted to hold onto something.

“Uh, I- I- Brian I didn’t-”

Brian grinned and looked up at Pat through his lashes, rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.

“So… you taking me up on the offer?”

Pat sputtered for a bit before finally getting out, “Offer.” It was a question.

“I’ve got some lip gloss you can use; I think it might be a good touch,” Brian replied, winking just to watch Pat react.

Pat’s mouth was slightly agape, as if he hadn’t thought this far ahead and now was at a loss for what to do.

Brian pretended to look for the lipstick in his pockets, gestured out with his empty hands. “Damn, Patrick, looks like I left the gloss in the bathroom. Bu-ut,” he paused, drawing out the word, “I  _ did _ just put some on, and I don’t mind sharing.” Saying this, he took a final step forward and placed a fingertip, featherlight, on Pat’s chest, just between his collarbones.

Pat remained frozen. Brian didn’t even think he was breathing.

Brian waited until he couldn’t stand the tension, then finally cut the silence with “May I?”

Pat paused, blinked, nodded.

Immediately, Brian got a hand behind Pat’s head and pressed up onto the balls of his feet. kissing him deeply. It took a moment, but finally Pat began to reciprocate, pushing forward until Brian nearly had to take a step back. Somehow, Pat’s arm had snaked around Brian’s waist and Brian’s fingers were tangled in the hair at the nape of Pat’s neck and they were pressed flush up against one another and it was fucking perfect and  _ ohmygod oh my GOD pat is kissing you and you’re kissing him and he wants you and you want him holy SHIT. _

And Pat was taking a step back and staring at Brian with wide eyes, carding a hand through his own hair and peeling off his glasses with the other.

“Well now-“

“Brian do-“

Brian giggled as they tripped over one another’s words, before waving Pat on to continue speaking. The other man took in a shuddering breath before continuing. “Brian do you… are we? I mean. Uh.” Pat squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger like a fucking TAZ npc. “ _ Briancanitakeyououtonadate? _ ”

Brian grinned broadly. “Oh thank  _ god.  _ Yes, you dumbass. I would like nothing more.”

Pat smiled back, hesitantly.

“We can work out the details later, though! We’re on the clock!” Brian tapped his right wrist – ironically, not the one he wore his actual watch on. “What’re we filming? Just some extra stuff, right?”

Pat put his glasses back on, rubbed his lips together unconsciously in response to the foreign feeling on his lips, and grinned.

“It’s called  _ Gooigi’s Goodies,”  _ he intones, laughter barely containing itself behind his eyes.

Brian threw his head back laughing. As he recovered, he righted himself and wheezed with tears in his eyes, “ _ God,  _ Pat. you’re really gonna pull that out  _ now  _ after I’ve gotten lip gloss all over you?”

Pat shrugged, faux innocent. “What can I say? Luigi’s mansion is prophetic. It was written in the goo.”

“ _ PATRICK. _ ”

**Author's Note:**

> hello mwah it has been a hot and spicy second since i posted anything a. at all or b. not anon lol
> 
> how is it going my dudes i just. want pat to wear makeup, is the thing. brian is a makeup department all on his own. the conclusion is, i would argue, logical.
> 
> you may notice that there are multiple chapters. will there be more? who knows. maybe? don't count on it lol.
> 
> come hang out with me on twitter @_electrictrash yeet


End file.
